


What we Left in the Darkness

by Outofangband



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angband, Could be kind of AU?, PTSD, Past abuse/torture, Rating will probably go up, Valinor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 22:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17816876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Outofangband/pseuds/Outofangband
Summary: (multi part, goes back and forth between a few different times. can be interpreted as either part of my “main” AU, or re-embodiment in Valinor. Work in progress)(Years after the events of The Silmarillion, it becomes clear that all is not well in the House of Finwë.)





	What we Left in the Darkness

    It had been an age since Fingolfin had last been woken by his frantic son, shaking him quite unnecessarily and murmuring something about Nelya. Indeed, this scenario was so familiar that for a few moments, Fingolfin thought he might be dreaming. Sitting up in bed however, his eldest son was still clutching his hands and speaking very quickly. To his surprise, he heard a few voices outside the door despite the lateness of the hour.

    “Findekáno, slow down,” Fingolfin says firmly after another half minute of incomprehension. His son takes a few deep breaths, his tone agitated and frightened.

    “Atya, it is Nelyo. Something is wrong. He is ill. Káno said to get you, we did not want to wake Grandfather.” Wearily, Fingolfin stood, stepping onto the soft carpet of his old room and following Finno out. In the dimly lit hallway stood Káno and Tyelko, both looking pale and upset. Fingolfin makes what he hopes is a polite gesture, asking silently what was wrong.

    “I heard him crying,” Tyelko says, while his brother just looks afraid, “I thought he was having a nightmare so I went into his room but…” he looks to Finno helplessly, “He would not wake up. I tried for awhile.” Several questions flashed through Fingolfin’s mind at these words. His son did him the favor of answering the first one.

    “Huan was barking,” he said, “It woke me up too.” Fingolfin and Tyelko both nod, though for different reasons. Silently, they make their way down to Nelyo’s room. Fingolfin does not hear anything. A large part of him hopes that his nephew has simply fallen back asleep. His nightmares could be rather alarming, especially when he screamed. And this was the first time they were all staying together in such close proximity in so long. Perhaps this was unnecessary panic. Perhaps…

    Fingolfin knocks on the door, already murmuring a few apologetic words.

    “Nelya? I am sorry to wake you, may I open the door?” No answer. Fingolfin waits a few moments before stepping in. There is one small candle burning on the bedside table, presumably lit by Tyelko. Maedhros lies on his back, his breathing steady and his eyes closed but still, there is something definitely wrong in his appearance. Carefully, Fingolfin puts a hand on his shoulder, his eyes still on his nephew’s face. There is no response. For the first time, Fingolfin begins to worry.

(Five Hours Earlier)

 

 _It was the first truly quiet afternoon in the House in ages. Members from several families had congregated there to engage in peaceful recreation and familial bonding. The presence of Finwë himself, finally back at the newly furnished and cleaned residence added to the almost nostalgia that seemed to hover in the minds of many of the members. As the elven lord roamed from room to room to speak briefly to his children and grandchildren, a sense of the start normalcy crept unsuspecting on some of the more cheerful and optimistic visitors. It was the beginning of a new age, the Great Enemy was forever vanquished, and no one had ended up doomed to everlasting darkness as had been feared for so long. Few had thought that most, never mind all, of the House of Finwë would ever end up well and free enough to sit and talk with a cousin or play with one of the hounds in the formal gardens._  
  
_Indeed, songs and conversations coming from more than a dozen of the spacious, well decorated rooms could be heard as one wandered the halls. Only one room remained locked and empty: Lord Finwë’s former study. It wasn’t sectioned off or marked, in fact, there was no real indication that the room was Forbidden. That would have been completely unnecessary; the idea of setting it as off limits was intended to keep it from anyone’s mind. Tyelko and Curvo had made half hearted attempts at levity, asking if one of the pictures drawn in early childhood remained on the wall, or if Morgoth had stolen that as well. A suppressed shudder from their eldest brother shut them up almost instantly and Káno had asked for wine amid the awkward silence._  
  
_It had unnoticed by most that Nelyo seemed to have positioned himself in the area of the house farthest from the Study. After a brief family gathering, he had politely excused himself to one of the airy drawing rooms with two of his small lizards and had not surfaced since. Perhaps Finno had gone after him. Kano had stopped Tyelko following with the intention to apologise for his ill timed comment. With less words, he said simply that having the reason for the tension restated to Nelyo would do more harm than good. Tyelko looked uncharacteristically surprised but had heeded his brother’s warning. It was possible that he had not quite realized the extent of Nelyo’s remaining apprehension regarding anything involving the Black Foe._  
  
_So, Tyelko, Curvo, and later Moryo went outside with Tyelko’s new large, dark hound. (Named Huan in honor of his old companion). Kano had spent some time with his grandfather in the music room before curling up with a book on the window sill in the library. The Ambarussa were playing a table game with Finda and Irrese. Several other cousins were scattered through the old house, in various stages of sleep, eating, and conversation._  
  
_It ended up being Nolofinwë who came across his eldest nephew. Seeing the door slightly open, he had entered looking for a bottle of ink. Nelyo sat in one corner, one small iguana on his head and the other in his pocket. He was holding a book but it was clear from the awkward way he was holding it that he hadn’t really been reading it. With a small, slightly sad smile, Nolo went to sit next to him. He observed with pursed lips how pale and drawn his nephew seemed. Even after leaving the Gardens, Nelyafinwë remained quiet bordering on brooding, rarely speaking more than a sentence at a time. Fingolfin did not like to make assumptions but he did not have to jump very far to a possible conclusion as to what was on his nephew’s mind. Though Nolo did not know all the details, it was clear to him that something had happened to him in Angband, before Finno had found him on the cliff. Something that even the Lord of Mandos had been unable to treat or even fully view. He knew from personal experience that one had to at least once speak aloud their troubles and tribulations in order to find peace in the Halls and he dreaded to think of what could be so awful that even the stern Doomsman had not the heart to draw out of Nelya, simply letting him leave alongside a few of his cousins and brothers._  
  
_The two sat together in near silence for awhile before Nolo concluded that his nephew needed some time alone. Resolving to come back later, both for Nelya’s sake and to assuage his own guilt, he stood up with another small smile and left._

He had not come back though. Amid the reunions and the elaborate dinner (which Nelya had not attended), Fingolfin had never revisited the large, spare room his nephew had been occupying. He had not seen him since their brief meeting there. Guilt stabs at him. He had seen that Nelya was in an odd state, albeit not much more of one than usual. And now…  
Not only had Nelyo not woken up but there was still nothing to indicate just what was wrong with him. He did not even look particularly distressed. Just…asleep. But not waking up.   
    “Go and get a healer,” Fingolfin tells Fingon calmly as he feels his nephew’s pulse (normal), and his temperature (cold, but not dangerously so). Fingon nods and runs off, Tyelko coming into the room and sitting at the edge of the bed.  
“What do we do?” he asks in an unconvincingly casual tone. Fingolfin adjusts Nelyo’s blankets, keeping his hand on his forehead. He does not look at Tyelko.   
    “I am sure this will resolve itself soon,” he says, much more firmly than he feels, “For some time your brother has been plagued by the horrors he has endured. He is merely ill.  As upsetting as this is, I do not doubt that it is not uncommon for those who have suffered as he has.” But he did doubt it. He highly doubted it. It was not merely the frantic, nighttime gathering around his nephew’s bed that was so familiar to him. For the first time in so, so long, Fingolfin felt a dread within him, of something unnamed and horrible, yet so dangerously close. 


End file.
